For the First Time
by Louise and Thelma
Summary: How Michael's heart opened up and he began to feel for the first time emotions he didn't even know he possessed when he met a certain Irish spitfire. Our first Burn Notice Fan Fiction. Constructive and kind reviews greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**For The First Time**

A.N: This will be a multiple chapter story written by us and in honour of the wonderful Beejed, who has helped us to heal AND introduced us to Fan Fiction. Hope you like it as well. A special thank you Jedi's Pal for all your advice, support and inspiration, we are very grateful. Love Louise and Thelma (Thelma and Louise, which is what Beejed called us in the hospital, was already taken) At press time we did not hear back from Matt Nix or USA Network so unfortunately we do not own these wonderful characters.

Chapter 1

**It was unexpected, so very unexpected. He was meant to approach her, use the incriminating evidence that he had over her not so legal ventures to push her into assisting him in his operation, assistance she would not have given otherwise. He walked up to her. She was in the Black Sand Pub, nursing a Jamison whiskey, her auburn hair hanging in loose curls and wearing a short grey skirt and black tight shirt. He knew from the surveillance photos she was a very good looking woman, but as he approached her, he stopped dead. When she turned to look at him, he realized that no photo could do her justice and he felt his heart skip a beat or two when he looked into her eyes. They were green then blue, flashing and changing like a kaleidoscope. The colour reminded him of the Irish Sea. They sparkled with an amusement, a secret joke that only she knew, and a confidence that was refreshing and frightening at the same time. **

**The operation was momentarily forgotten, his approach abandoned and he said in a lilting Irish accent (the one thing he did remember) the only thing on his mind. "Excuse me, would you care to dance?" **

**The eyes that had mesmerized him looked at him curiously. The green-blue shimmered even more, a bemused smirk appearing as quickly as the snub nosed revolver that was now pointed at his chest. **

**Determined that he would not fail in his mission to come in closer contact, a mission that had nothing to do with his CIA operation, he smiled and said "I assume that means yes." **

**The revolver was tucked away, her eyes still glistening with a mixture of interest and something else he could not place. She nodded and allowed him to take her arm and lead her to the dance floor. **

**They danced close together, her small size fitting perfectly into his arms. "Well you are a fine dancer, and who might you be" she asked with a lilt and a smile that burned through him. **

**Still lost in her gaze, he said "My name is Michael, Michael McBride". **

**She smiled and continued to hold him close, tucking her head in the hollow of his shoulder. "Nice to meet you Michael McBride, I think I' m going to enjoy getting to know ya" **

**He sighed and held her tighter and for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt pure and unadulterated happiness.**

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	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N**__: Thank you everyone, your reviews for our first story made us very, very happy. Thank you to Purdy's Pal for the great Irish history lesson, which helped our story, and Jedi Skysinger for her input, advice and proofreading. This chapter is dedicated to the Summer Warriors, led by the wonderful Mrs. D (Beejed) Hope we see some of your stories here soon you guys. And to Dr. T from Toronto, this is the kind of writing that is helpful to us, just saying. _

_Unless our autocorrect changed the do to a don't, we still don't own any of these characters, but are thankful that Matt Nix and USA Network created them for us to borrow._

_K and T (Louise and Thelma)_

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_**He sighed and held her tighter and for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt pure and unadulterated happiness.**_

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Chapter 2

The dance had reluctantly come to an end. Michael knew that the hard part was now upon him. He held her loosely around the waist as they walked off the dance floor to a small table in a darkened corner of the pub. He had to forsake what has been such an unexpected but meaningful moment in time and get to the reason the American spy was in Ireland in the first place.

The mission was straightforward, almost simple really, considering past missions he had been on. With the disaster that was Chechnya and Larry Sizemore still burning dark through his mind, this seemed like a cakewalk. It was a joint effort by the CIA and MI6 to stop the flow of weaponry that was being sold to militants in all corners of the world. O'Leary was a supplier to rebels and those rebels posed a threat to both the United States and the United Kingdom.

While O'Leary was the supplier, they knew that once they got him, the middle man so to speak, the rest of the chain would crumble. Their goal was to ultimately get the kingpin of the organization, who at this point was unknown, but was rumored to be in Germany.

O'Leary was the closest ally this kingpin had and, to get to him, they had to find a way in through an Irish militant family, expert gun runners themselves led by the patriarch Calum Glennanne. Intel had been gathered on the Glennanne family, with the youngest daughter Fiona seemingly being the easiest family member to claim as an asset, especially if approached by the right operative.

The time had come to lay out his plan. While he had abandoned his original strong armed approach, he knew given Fiona's fierce loyalty and pride that the truth would not result in her help. So wit**h **his original plan forgotten, he improvised with a convenient lie born out of what he knew of her from his intel.

"I need your help Fiona," he said. "With an arms dealer named O'Leary." She immediately stiffened, her eyes flashing dark and angry.

"What the hell McBride," she hissed. "Are you setting me up? Did you scout me first?"

"No, it's nothing like that, nothing at all. I admit that I was lookin' for ya. I had heard you had your ear to the gun running business. I want O'Leary dead," he stated.

"So, now you're a gun runner are ya? Looking to take over his business?" she asked, furious at his apparent deceit.

"No," he whispered, and taking a deep breath, he told a lie that he would later regret. "O'Leary killed my sister. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he eliminated the _loose end_ as he called her."

Fiona's eyes changed before him. Gone was the darkness, replaced by a sorrow, an unmistakable sorrow. She took his hand in her own tiny one and said "What's your plan?"

At that moment, he really didn't want to discuss the plan. He only had one goal and, with that in mind, he leaned down and kissed her.

That one kiss changed everything. The electricity that coursed through his veins was new, exciting and frightening. Over the next few days, they spent almost every moment together. She was intoxicating and maddening and dangerous. On the third night, after surveillance that lasted the night, they tumbled into bed. Zippers, shoes, clothes thrown recklessly about as they came together, cementing their bond.

From that night on, he never went back to his rented room. They were cocooned in her flat, oblivious to the outside world. Her family knew nothing of him, although her brothers were suspicious that their little sister was not as available, and his superiors knew nothing of her, or so he thought. They laid together at night, content and calm. Even on the warmest nights he needed to feel her, wrap his arms around her. It wasn't just about sex, it was the cold comfort and feeling of peace he felt in her presence.

One morning, after another night of unmistakable passion, he and Fiona sat at the small kitchen table discussing the details of the plan. Fiona could sense that something was off, something inside McBride was wavering. Could he be wavering in his desire for revenge, a desire that she knew all too well?

"Let's go for a ride, McBride," Fiona declared suddenly, waking Michael from his deep thoughts. He agreed but immediately became suspicious when she refused to divulge where they were headed.

_Had she discovered who he was? Had his cover been blown and he was being driven to his sure death? _

Unlike civilians, spies do not like surprises; they rarely end in their favor. After a drive that lasted almost an hour, a drive that found Fiona quieter than he thought possible, pensive and lost in thought, his paranoia was at an all time high. They were far from the city and, when the car stopped, he found that they had travelled to a small cemetery.

They left the car and walked through the rusted wrought iron gate and in between the head stones and monuments, some crumbling through years of severe Irish weather, others new with fresh flowers honoring the dearly departed. They walked silently for a few minutes until they stopped at a small but shining headstone. The name read: _**Claire Emma Glennanne, beloved daughter and sister. Gone too soon but soars now with angels. **_

With her beautiful blue/green eyes shimmering with unshed tears, Fiona grabbed Michael's hand. "This is our connection," she said finally "This is why I want to help ya. My beautiful baby sister was gunned down by a British soldier. She too was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I could tell there was brokenness about ya, just like me."

Michael was speechless; Fiona had never told him about Claire. He had read it in the intel gathered about her. The pain in her eyes was almost too much to bear. He wanted to take her in his arms, tell her the truth and try to make that pain go away.

"We need to finish the job Michael," she said passionately. "We need to do this for our sisters and then we can move ahead with our lives."

Michael nodded, as the words he wanted to tell her were trapped in his throat, his mouth dry and nausea swirling in his gut. This beautiful woman had bared her soul to him, shared with him her painful personal grief, which was based on a horrible lie. _These are lies that you tell an asset, lies you tell to manipulate someone to further your cause._

And as he stared into her eyes, still glistening with tears, he realized that Fiona Glennanne was no longer an asset and this betrayal would surely destroy her.

And for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt unmistakable guilt.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N We are truly overwhelmed and humbled by the great feedback we have received. At this time, I would like to make a confession and give credit where credit is due. I (Thelma) am only responsible for the Author's Notes. Louise is the brilliant writer of this story, taking all of our ideas and putting them together. She has been writing since she was a little girl and was always nervous about publically displaying her work! That being said, this story would not be what it is without the advice and guidance of Purdy's Pal and especially Jedi Skysinger. Thank you so much. These characters still don't belong to us, thanks Matt Nix and USA Network. Without further adieu, Chapter 3.

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_This beautiful woman had bared her soul to him, shared with him her painful personal grief that was based on a horrible lie._

_And for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt guilt._

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Chapter 3

They worked well together, like they had been partners forever. They did disagree; Michael learned quickly that Fiona was as "passionate" out of bed as she was in. She was a shoot-first-ask-questions-later type of person and, on more than one occasion, he'd had to be the voice of reason when plotting the mission against O'Leary. Fiona thought that they should just shoot him. But Michael explained that if they set him up, his business associates would take care of that for them, no blood on their hands.

With the killing of his "sister," he had patiently explained, if O'Leary was murdered, the first suspect would be her grieving brother. What he didn't tell her was that the business associate or the kingpin was their joint tasks main target. He was getting pressure from the higher-ups; they felt that the take down of O'Leary was taking too long. They had one more ammunition site to destroy and then he would have the leverage he needed to control O'Leary and find out who and where the kingpin was.

He was still trying to put together the story that he needed to ensure Fiona's help. That would take some delicate maneuvering on his part. He had yet to put into his weekly reports anything regarding his "connection" with his asset, never mind that it was so much more than an operative/asset relationship. That was his own private story. He almost wished he was really Michael McBride. That way the truth he knew would destroy this relationship would never have to come to light.

The last ammunition storage unit was set to be hit. Intel had revealed that O'Leary knew his back was against the wall. Three shipments of guns and weaponry had been mysteriously stolen or destroyed. His backers in Germany were getting very impatient with him and looking towards a new partnership with a more reliable supplier. O'Leary knew that he would soon be a "loose end" and, with that in mind, he set about adding some security features to ensure that both he and his weapons would be safe.

Michael marveled at the way someone so small, so delicate looking could shoot a sniper rifle one minute and put together a bomb like she was making a cake the next. Her concentration while making explosives could not be broken. Each component was measured carefully, put together in a package as small and deadly as the bomb maker herself. He knew he was on borrowed time. But the longer he spent with her, the more he never wanted their time to end.

Fiona finished making the explosive device and held it up for Michael's inspection.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she whispered, her green blue eyes sparkling with excitement and longing.

"Yes," he agreed, never taking his eyes off of her stunning face. "Beautiful…"

And, as with every time that they worked together on something dangerous and intimate, their desire ignited. They fell into bed in a rush. But for Michael, he needed something more.

He slowed the tempo down and they made love slowly and passionately, without the wild abandonment that usually was found. He held her close to his side and felt both their heartbeats. Brushing back the sweaty tendrils of her hair and looking into her eyes, the eyes he had first got lost in, he said, "Fiona, no matter what happens, I want you to know that this, this right here is real."

"What are ya going on about, McBride? You're not about to leave, are ya?" she challenged. "Ya better not be married, cause you know how I like my c4." Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"No, I just wanted you to know," he whispered and they closed their eyes and went to sleep

The next evening, they proceeded to the storage unit. Fiona, with the explosive in hand, retreated out of their stolen vehicle and approached the small and unassuming structure. For some reason, Michael's paranoia was at an all time high. _A spy learns that nothing comes too easy. If you relax on a mission, you end up dead._

"Seems a shame to let those lovely weapons go to waste," Fiona said wistfully. "Are ya sure we just can't go in and nick a few? It's not like he would notice"

"No, Fiona, just as we planned," he said a little more emphatically then she liked. "Any deviation to the plan could get us killed."

"Ya know, sometimes you're no fun, McBride. You're starting to sound like the Garda instead of someone out for revenge," she hissed

"Just be careful. I'll do a perimeter check, you jimmy the lock, plant the device and get the hell out of there," he pleaded,

"It's not like I've never done this before, Michael. Just be on the lookout and I will be back in a flash."

She gave him a quick peck on the lips, smiled her smile that was full of promise and desire and was off.

Fiona made quick work of the lock, entering the structure quickly and without a sound. Michael was at the south end of the building; she could see his shadow out the back window. The sight of the table full of automatic weapons was like an aphrodisiac to her. She bit her lip as she fought the urge to take one of the shiny weapons in her hand.

"One won't hurt a soul," she thought to herself. "Besides McBride doesn't control what I can and cannot do," she reasoned crossly.

She picked up the beautiful American-made M16 Rifle and held it up for inspection. As soon as the gun left the table, a notable popping noise was heard in the room and, before Fiona knew it, the room exploded in flames.

From his vantage point, Michael could hear the noise as well and looked on in horror as the structure burst into fire. He ran towards the building, screaming Fiona's name. The flames licked out at him, singeing his skin, burning the hairs on his arms. He continued to call Fiona's name, rushing around to find another access point.

He looked towards the back of the building and his breath caught as he saw her small battered body lying in a clearing. From where he stood he could see her clothes were burnt and torn. She remained still, silent and unmoving. He ran towards her, his heart exploding in his chest, bile rising in his throat, unable to breathe as he approached her. _She could not be gone; she could not leave him, not like this. She could not be gone, she could not leave him_, he repeated in his head over and over like a mantra.

And for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt genuine, gut wrenching fear.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thanks again for the kind reviews. Sorry for the late update, school is back in and it is kicking our butts and by our butts I mean mine since Louise is a brainiac. It was Canadian thanksgiving monday and we have so much to be thankful for, our families, friends, our clean bills of health (knock on wood) and the friends we made on Fan Fic, particularly Jedi Skysinger and Purdy's Pal. Thank you to Ruth for the Beta, we are truly thankful. The character of Liam Glenanne, menacing interrogator, was first introduced by Jedi Skysinger, he was wonderful enough to make an appearance in our little old story. **

_She could not be gone; she could not leave him, not like this. She could not be gone. She could not leave him_, he repeated in his head over and over like a mantra.

_And for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt genuine, gut wrenching fear._

Chapter 4

Michael ran faster than even he thought possible to the small, lifeless body lying in the clearing. He knelt beside her and felt for a pulse along her neck, his breath returning when he felt a faint beat. He could see her chest rising slightly and said a silent thank you to whoever was watching over Fiona.

She was unconscious but alive. On her head, above an old scar, a gaping wound was bleeding. Glass was embedded in her legs and arms; bruises were materializing all over her body. Her ankle was at an awkward angle and swelling and it appeared her shoulder was dislocated. It seems like the detonation propelled her through the window, thankfully away from the burning flames.

O'Leary would pay for this, but all thoughts of revenge were put on the back burner as he suspected internal bleeding, shock and a possible concussion were the enemy now. Michael knew that they needed help and fast.

He cursed the fact that he wasn't familiar with the countryside. The only one who was, was lying unconscious and bleeding. Michael could not afford to take her to a local hospital; too many questions would need to be answered.

He would have to reach out to someone who he knew would help. Michael lifted Fiona gingerly and carried her to the stolen vehicle, carefully laying her in the back seat. She still hadn't moved. But she was still breathing and for that Michael was thankful. He pulled out her hand bag and, after rifling through the various weapons, detonators and lipstick, he found what he was looking for: a mobile phone, albeit not her usual one. He thought back to the day he had discovered this secondary device.

_He was going to order in some take out for them to enjoy. His own phone battery was dead and in the__charger, so he grabbed Fiona's purse to get hers. He picked up the silver phone, an older model than the one he was used to seeing her use, and looked at it curiously._

"_Stop, McBride!" she said. "Not that one…" and she handed him her regular mobile. _

"_Is that to contact your secret boyfriends?" he asked and couldn't help a twinge of jealousy which came__with thinking that was the case._

"_No," she said. "This is my life line. My family and I have a pact. We all have a phone that only we have the numbers for and, no matter where we are or what we are doing, if that phone rings, we answer. The numbers never change 448-141-450_ and then whatever our birth order is completes it. My da is 1, Liam 2, Sean 3, Seamus 4, Cormack 5 and I am 6. This keeps us safe because, in the end, it's really only your family who you can truly count on."_

Michael reflected on his own family and thought that statement couldn't be further from the truth. He counted on one person and that was himself.

But he knew that he needed help for Fiona and with some trepidation he dialed the number he remembered. He had heard the stories of Callum Glennanne and had no desire to meet the Glennanne patriarch over the unconscious body of his remaining daughter, so he dialed the number next in line.

He had also heard the stories of Liam Glennanne, an interrogator with the cause, one with a reputation beyond reproach. But if anyone could get Fiona the help she needed, it would be him. A gruff voice answered on the second ring.

"Fiona, it's about time we heard from you. It's like you have been avoiding us."

"This is Michael McBride, a friend of your sister's," Michael said. "She has been hurt in an explosion and needs help now!"

There was silence at the end of the line, as the man who was used to exposing liars and traitors contemplated his next move.

"Please, Liam, she's hurt badly and I need to find her a safe place,"Michael pleaded. "I have no emergency supplies and I'm afraid…"

"Where are ya at, McBride?" Liam growled, cutting Michael off.

Michael told him their location and then Liam said, "There's a cabin not far from where yer at, off the beaten path, you'll be safe there. We'll meet you there." He gave Michael the directions and, before hanging up, he gave him one more direction, "And, McBride, if you are lying to me or if my sister dies, you better make yer peace with God."

Michael involuntarily shuddered but understood the underlying message.

After securing Fiona in the back seat, he jumped in the driver's seat and sped off to the safe house.

After a few minutes, Michael turned onto a winding lane and saw the cabin in the back ground. He parked the car close to the door and, using a hairpin given to him by the beautiful woman lying in the back seat, he opened the door easily. He carried Fiona into the living area and laid her on a sofa covered by a white sheet. She was pale, but still breathing. He retrieved a blanket from a basket near the fire-place and laid it over her. She moaned and Michael's heart jumped into his throat.

"I'm here, Fi, "he whispered, stroking her hair. She stilled but did not awaken completely. He searched the small cabin for medical supplies, but could only find some clean tea towels. He coaxed some water out of the old pipes and came back to her side, carefully cleaning around her wounds, checking her vital signs as he went. He saw some fire wood and flint near the brick fire-place and set about starting a fire that would hopefully warm Fiona's freezing body. He was worried that shock was setting in and felt uncharacteristically helpless.

Michael heard a disturbance outside of the door. Pulling his gun from his waistband, he went and pulled the door open quickly. He was met with a gun in his own face and the green-eyed glare of Liam Glennanne. Behind him, holding a medical bag was a younger, less intense version of Liam. Cormack Glennanne was a trained field medic and quickly entered the cabin, going over to the prone figure of his sister on the couch.

"How long has she been out?" he queried quietly and set to work assessing her wounds.

"Who the hell are ya and what have you got my sister involved in?" Liam growled. At that very moment, the one person, who all in the room were concerned about, regained consciousness, fighting against the probing hands of her brother.

"What the hell, Mack, where am I?" Fiona whispered groggily, "Michael, what have you done with Michael?"

"I'm right here Fi," Michael hurried over to where she lie. "I called yer brothers; I didn't know what else to do."

"Now start explainin' what happened," Liam hissed at Michael.

"Tis nothing Liam, I went to a stash house to help myself to some new shiny guns and the bastard had it booby-trapped. McBride didn't even know where I was taking him," Fiona explained matter of factly but still in a voice tinged with pain. "Don't be treatin' me friend like he is one of your _detainees,_ Liam," she added crossly, her tart response a welcome sign to Michael.

In that instant, Michael knew that Fiona had lied to her family to save him having to explain his story and once again he felt grateful.

"Who's stash house was it, Fiona?" Liam asked suspiciously

"Was told it belonged to that shady Scot, Lachlan McGinnis, but he wouldn't be bright enough to set that type of charge," Fiona said with a wave of her hand, indicating that the conversation was over.

Cormack continued to clean and dress Fiona's wounds. She attempted to rise off the couch, but a wave of dizziness caused her to lie back down.

"Now just lay still, sister. You have a nasty bump on the head, your ankle though not broken is badly sprained and you need stitches. McBride, get over here. You'll have to keep her still while I set her shoulder."

Michael knew all too well what was involved in this and cursed himself that he hadn't set it in place while she was unconscious. He held her legs while Cormack quickly and efficiently popped the joint back into position. Fiona noticeably paled. But, to her credit and for the benefit of her brothers, she only let out a soft moan. Michael kissed her forehead for comfort despite the questioning looks from Liam and Cormack.

"You will have to lay low for a bit. I'm sure the aunties won't mind ya bunking down here, especially for their favourite niece," Cormack said softly.

The cabin belonged to the Glennanne sibling's paternal aunts Ruth and Kate. The sisters were travelling abroad, Florida was their last known destination, and while they may have looked like tourists, they were keeping their ear to the ground gathering intel. They had a soft spot for Fiona and the cabin was left for her use whenever she needed it.

Cormack finished his work, declared that his sister needed rest and packed up his bag.

"Doesn't look like any internal injuries, but I am concerned about concussion. Have her rest and check on her often," Cormack advised Michael.

Liam Glennanne followed his brother out of the living room, though he spoke quietly to Fiona before departing and following his brother out to the front door.

"Keep an eye on her if ya know what's good for ya ,McBride, and I will be checking into this story of hers too," Liam said "If anything happens to her…"

"I will guard her as if my life depended on it," he said quietly and he actually meant it.

"It does," Liam agreed without a trace of irony. With a nod to Michael, they left.

The next few days were spent like they were living another life. And in a way they were.

Michael cooked with the meager supplies left in the pantry and they snuggled on the couch with endless cups of tea in front of the fire, oblivious to the world around them. This was a life Michael never imagined he could have and certainly never dreamed he would enjoy. With Fiona by his side, they spoke of their dreams and passions. She showed him pictures of her family and told stories of her childhood that endeared her to him even more.

One evening, Fiona lie in Michael's arms, peppering his neck and face with kisses.

"Your brothers said to rest," Michael told her. "Besides you only have the use of one arm and one leg," he told her with a smile.

Fiona smiled back at him and said in a sultry voice that left nothing to the imagination, "Well, McBride, you'll be pleasantly surprised what I can do with only one arm." And in the tiny bedroom, she showed him just that. They held each other at night, their bodies protecting one another from the cold Irish wind. They slept soundly and comfortable, their nightmares that plagued their sleep, seemed to disappear.

They felt safe and cocooned from the outside world. Michael Westen and Michael McBride merged together and, even though he knew this was temporary reprieve, for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt at peace.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N  Once again thank you everyone for your reviews. This chapter tonight is dedicated to my best friend Kara (who also happens to be the author). She is the bravest, smartest funniest girl I know. Right now she is laid up in the hospital but is getting better and better and looking forward to getting back to writing as soon as possible. Thank you Ruth and Kate for your help and your prayers and yes Kara I spell checked!

Also we forgot to mention last chapter that we do not own any Burn Notice characters but sadly neither Jeffrey Donovan nor Matt Nix showed up at our door to give us trouble. We still don't own them boo hoo.

Chapter 5

_They felt safe and cocooned from the outside world. Michael Westen and Michael McBride merged together and, even though he knew this was temporary reprieve, for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt at peace._

Their time in their self-professed sanctuary was coming to an end. Fiona's injuries were healing well and she was able to move easily, as evidenced by their night-time activities. His trips to the woodshed in the back while Fiona was resting were the times that Michael took to be in touch with his superiors. They were becoming very impatient. Tom Card had let _Agent Westen_ know that they had a small window in order to complete their mission.

O'Leary was delivering his supply to some North African rebels and it needed to be intercepted. From there, Michael would assume the identity of a new player in the gun dealing scene and make contact with the kingpin in Germany. His time in Ireland was coming to an end and the fact of the matter was that Michael McBride didn't want this mission to end. Ending the mission would mean he would go back to being Michael Westen and that life did not include this Irish firecracker that had become so important to him. Michael had told Card that Fiona's skills would be an advantage in their continued mission and Michael guaranteed success, _if_ they allowed him to bring his _asset_ along.

Unbeknownst to Michael, Tom Card was well aware of his burgeoning relationship with his _ass_e_t_. This Irish woman had extracted a part of Michael that his training officer thought was so deeply imbedded, it would never come to light. Fiona Glennanne made Card very nervous, very nervous indeed. Michael Westen had always been a force to be reckoned with. His single-mindedness on his missions made him an invaluable operative, one who could be counted on to do the things needed to get the job done. Emotions were unnecessary, unimportant. This Glennanne woman had, in a short time, made Michael a man first and an operative second; she made him human.

_This was unacceptable and plans needed to be put in place to stop this_. Tom Card needed his protégé back, the unstoppable bastard that was Michael Westen. Intel had told him that the Glennanne boys were now aware of their little sister's relationship with one Michael McBride and Liam Glennanne was suspicious. Word on the street was that O'Leary's unfortunate circumstances were purposeful sabotage and some of the rumblings were pointing the finger at the Glennanne boys. Card thought he could use this to his advantage. From what he knew, Fiona was loyal to a fault. But when push came to shove, her family would always come first.

Michael was probably right, Card thought, Fiona would be a valuable asset in Germany; however, not as a romantic partner, but as a reluctant asset. Maybe it was time for Fiona Glennanne to meet _Michael Westen._ He made a call and waited for the inevitable fall out.

Michael told Fiona it was time to go. With a heavy heart, he put the cabin back together and helped Fiona to the car. He looked back at the cabin that had, for the first time, felt like a home. Fiona grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye.

"Michael, this isn't the last time we will be here," she whispered to him emphatically. "I think if it is meant to be, we'll find our way back here."

Michael nodded, kissing the top of her head and headed to the car.

He thought about telling her, but that was really not an option. He had to finish this job first. He thought that his suggestion of including her in his cover story for the German part of the op was received favorably. He was formulating his story in his mind as he and Fiona were making their way to the interception point.

This was when he had to come up with a plausible story. "Fiona, we need to make our way to the back roads leading to the harbor," Michael said. "I think that's where O'Leary will be moving his guns."

"Have you gone mad, Michael? You're still going through with this? O'Leary almost killed us. The hell with his guns, the only thing we're going to do is put a bullet in him! "Fiona raged. 

"We can't, "Michael replied. "I think this is something bigger. I wanna make sure he doesn't have anything to bargain with. Think of the money we can make if we take over his business. We can travel to Europe and live the life of Reilly." Even to his own ears, this story sounded lame and implausible.

"Since when has money mattered to you, McBride?" she hissed as a feeling of dread came over her. "What about your sister and what O'Leary did to you? Does that not matter anymore?"

_Had this been his plan all along? Was she right that he now wanted to be a gun runner, taking over not only O'Leary's business but the Glennanne's livelihood as well? Had she unwittingly betrayed her family?_

Michael silenced her dark thoughts by kissing their joined hands as he drove quickly towards their intended interception.

"No, luv, of course it matters. I want to take away from O'Leary the only thing that matters to him, his money and his power," Michael reasoned. "Now, we're getting close to where we need to be. Let's set up our own trap that'll put his to shame."

They set up a road block at an intersection about an hour out of the city. A few seemingly abandoned warehouses lined the road; Fiona had put in place some explosive devices to make sure that their escape route was set. She could not shake the dark thoughts entering in her head. Michael said the right things, smiled his smile that left her weak in the knees. But some things were not adding up.

The plan went well, the drivers were easily overtaken, the truck hijacked. O'Leary's men were subdued without a single bullet being fired. Fiona and Michael were just about to jump into the truck packed with their stolen bounty when the bottom fell out of Michael Westen's well laid plan.

Out of nowhere, military vehicles surrounded the surprised couple. Full assault teams encircled their vehicle, weapons drawn. While Fiona's philosophy was shoot first and ask questions later, Michael knew they were hopelessly out numbered and prayed he could find an ally who would help them out of this unexpected jam. They were taken from their stolen truck, roughly handcuffed and brought to the team leader. That's when Michael recognized the face of his old friend Sam Axe.

"What the hell are you doing here, Mike? Didn't think the CIA and MI6 played nicely in the same sandbox," said Sam

"I'm working here, Sam, probably working on the same mission as you," Michael replied quietly.

"Wow," Sam whistled. "Looks like the CIA has stepped it up a notch with recruiting female operatives, has she fallen for the Michael Westen charm or is she single?"

His friend winced. "She's my… asset, Sam. She's helping me with the mission. Could you please uncuff us?"Michael couldn't look at her, not yet, and while it was probably his imagination, he felt her stiffen and withdraw.

"Sure thing, Mikey, no problem, hope we didn't step on any toes," Sam said as another soldier stepped up and freed them both. The military personnel left the couple at the side of the road and proceeded to procure the weapons.

Fiona was eerily quiet. Since the time of Sam's ill timed appearance, she hadn't said anything, as she tried to wrap her head on what was happening. In his own head, Michael was trying desperately to come up with a plausible reason, an explanation for his actions.

"Well, Mikey, good luck to you and your….ah, friend," said Sam, very uncomfortable with the tension between his buddy and his _asset_. "Next time I see ya, you owe me a beer. D'ya need a ride anywhere?"

Michael shook his head and nodded at his friend.

He reached for Fiona's hand, which she snatched away and stepped out of reach. She wrapped her arms around herself, a cold numbness seeping through her. He stepped in front of Fiona, desperate to make her understand that what they shared had little to do with the mission, that the time spent with her was the happiest time in his life. The words died in his throat as soon as he saw her face. Her eyes that had captured his heart, the flashing blue-green kaleidoscope that he saw in his dreams was gone. Her eyes were now grey, flat and reflected not mischief and amusement, but hurt and bitter betrayal.

It looked as if someone had extinguished the fire that had early this morning burned so brightly. He knew that someone was him and, for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt ashamed.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N : **We're back! **_**Louise **_**is all healed up and doing well as evidenced by the massive chapter she wrote that was edited into two parts. Thanks Jedi Skysinger and Purdy's Pal for your support and Beta work. Our delightful Auntie Ruth and Auntie Kate characters are in honour of you. **

**Happy Thanksgiving to all our American friends. We still don't own these characters, but Matt Nix and USA Network, Christmas is coming hint hint. K and T**

_It looked as if someone had extinguished the fire that had early this morning burned so brightly. He knew that someone was him and, for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt ashamed._

Chapter 6

Fiona felt a cold numbness slowly creep throughout her body. The numbness was not unwelcome, as she felt it offered a protection of sort, and it was not unfamiliar. She had learned the hard way throughout her life that trust and love are dangerous emotions. For awhile, after Claire's death she decided that she would live by the motto, _trust no one and no one will betray you, _a motto that served her well until the blue-eyed, beautiful man before her had asked her to dance.

She could see him imploring with his eyes and his quiet pleading to listen to him. The numbness now firmly encased around her heart allowed her to look at him, without emotion, without anything. _Feel nothing and nothing will hurt you_, another life lesson she had learned the hard way. Despite the numbness, she could feel the bile in her throat and tears threatening to fall. She would not give him the satisfaction of crying in front of him. She was a Glenanne and Glenannes did not cry.

Michael was desperate to make her come with him. They had to leave the area immediately so as to not be detected. While one part of his brain knew he needed a quiet place to explain that his betrayal was not exactly what she must be thinking, the other part of his brain, the operative part, was scrambling to salvage the mission.

"Fiona, we have to go. We have to leave before we're spotted by O'Leary and our cover's blown," he entreated.

She stared at him as if he was a stranger and, for all intents and purposes, he was. _He honestly thinks that I'm going to go with him? Does he have any idea what he has done to me, the danger he has put my family in? _Her thoughts were scrambling around her brain as she searched for her exit.

Michael grabbed her arm, noticing immediately how cold and stiff she seemed. He would make her understand; he couldn't let her go, let her leave believing the worst. Fiona once again snatched her arm away from him, still looking around for any chance of escape, when out of the corner of her eye she spied the means for her get away. She thrust her hands in the pocket of her jacket until she found what she needed.

"Fiona, please, I know what this looks like, but…"

Wrapping her hand around the detonator that was to be used for their retreat if needed, she pressed all the buttons and the world around them exploded. The soldiers, already on high alert, scrambled as explosions ricocheted from nearby warehouses, garbage cans and such. Michael hit the ground along with some of the men around him and in the chaos Fiona slipped away, jumping into a jeep parked not far away that still had the keys in the ignition. By the time the smoke cleared, she was gone.

Michael cursed under his breath. _He would find her and he would make her listen_. And if Fiona had truly known him, she would have known that once Michael, whether it be Westen or McBride, had an objective, he never gave up.

()()()()()()

Fiona changed vehicles three times on her way to Dublin, always leaving her "borrowed" vehicles in a place where they would be found and returned to their owner. She circled her way through the city, making sure that she wasn't followed until nightfall. Then she ditched her stolen ride and walked into the city center until she made her way to a three-story flat about 3 km from her own.

The flat belonged to her childhood friend, Gracie Quinn, and no one, not even her family, knew about this place. Gracie and Fiona had gone to school together and talked often about their hopes and dreams. Gracie had fulfilled her dream of becoming a nurse and was currently working for Médecins Sans Frontières stationed somewhere in West Africa. Fiona herself could have followed that path as well, always having a love of biology and science, but the death of her sister put her on a much different path and in far more dangerous circumstances than even Gracie faced.

Before Gracie went away, she had told Fiona that her flat was available; a sanctuary for her to escape if she needed it and a safe place was exactly what Fiona needed. She found the hidden key and let herself in. Helping herself to the bottle of Jamison in the liquor cabinet, she slid down the wall before the first tear could fall. Fiona shook her head and tried to wrap her mind on what had happened.

_It was all a lie, one giant lie, to manipulate her into working with him. She would never let herself be used like that again, and while revenge against this Michael Westen was on her mind, she could not help but grieve for the loss of Michael McBride._

Fiona pushed all thoughts of him aside and tried to formulate a plan. She needed her family, but she knew they could never know. _Not even a Glennanne would forgive her for working with an American spy or for being fooled by one._ _Where could she go_? She thought about finding her aunties. Last she had heard they were someone in the United States, Florida she thought. A postcard revealed that they were enjoying the beach and attending something called ice hockey and having a grand time.

She thought about how her aunties would approach Michael's treachery. Auntie Ruth would tie him to a chair and give him an Irish Bear hug, his arms wrapped around a pile of c4. But Auntie Kate, always the voice of reason, would say that was far too messy. She would give Fiona her Nana Glennanne's almond cake recipe, telling her that the taste of almonds would mask the arsenic that would be poured into his nightly tea. Thinking about her two favourite ladies, a smile crossed her face for the first time since the nightmare of his betrayal began. Fiona pulled out her silver phone and pushed the number one. It was time to go and see her father. She needed the comfort and safety of his presence and the opportunity to heal her broken heart.

()()()()()()()

Michael was desperate to find her. Tom Card was not impressed with his protégé's handling of this situation or that he let his asset get away.

"You _need_ to find her Michael," Card had reprimanded. "She is crucial to this operation being successful and we have already secured your cover for Germany and she's dangerous to the mission if she's out of your sight. Use whatever you need to get her in line, sport, and do it fast. Remind her that we know where her family is and that MI6 might have some use for that information.

Michael rubbed his hands across his eyes. _How could this have gone so wrong?_ She looked at him like he had ripped her heart out and he guessed that in her eyes he had. _He had to make this right, he would find her. _

()()()()()()()

Before Fiona could travel to her father's location up north, she return one last time to her flat. There were irreplaceable items and photos that she would not leave behind. She had to make sure that it was not under surveillance from Michael or anyone else in his organization. She employed the help of one of the local boys to keep an eye out, offering him 100 pounds to tell her when it was all clear.

She got the word and slowly made her way to her flat, the one she had shared with McBride. She back tracked and went down side streets and, once she was satisfied she was not being tailed, she climbed the stairs and went inside. Nothing was out-of-place, but the rumpled bed sheets were a bitter reminder of what had last transpired there the last time they had been there. She went to her closet and, from under the floor boards; she lifted out a silver metal box. Inside, she found what she had come for.

Putting the photos and assorted mementos in her tote bag, she moved to her wardrobe to gather some clothes needed. Her eyes were drawn to the snow globe on her nightstand, remembering when Michael had bought it for her. _There was no time to travel down memory lane. She would not waste another minute thinking about that bastard._ But that proved to be futile. He was a part of her life and even for that short while she had never been happier. That is what made his deceitfulness so painful. Lost in her misery, Fiona failed to hear the creak of the door until it was too late.

With the sound of footsteps in her foyer, she pulled out the gun from the waistband of her jeans and came face to face with a gun in her own face held by the man who had broken her heart.

"Fiona," he gasped and quickly put down his gun. Behind him was Joshua O'Brien, the lad who was supposed to keep a watch.

"Sorry, Fiona…" The boy shrugged. "He paid me double." He turned and left quickly, knowing full well he needed to be clear of her famous temper.

Fiona put her own gun away and turned her back to Michael, continuing to pack her bag and determined to ignore him.

"Fiona, luv, please, you have to listen to me," came the whispered lilt of Michael McBride.

"Oh please, just stop with the façade, Michael… or whatever the hell your name is," she hissed.

"It is Michael, that part is true," he said in his native accent. "Michael Westen."

"I would say it's nice to meet you, Michael Westen, but then I would be the one lying," she replied without looking at him, continuing her packing.

"Look, I know how this looks…"

Before he could finish, she turned, speaking sharply.

"Oh, I know exactly what this is. Your cronies in the CIA must have clapped ya on the back. I can hear them now: _Ah, Westen, ya lucky bastard, you got yourself a cheap Irish whore for an asset_. Your insider must have given ya exactly what ya needed to seal the deal. Did he say: _no need to even pay her, just whisper sweet nothings in her ear, ply her with drink and commiserate with her over your fake dead sister? Do that and not only will she provide tactical support, but she'll keep your bed warm at night?_ That about right, Michael?" she said bitterly.

Michael paled and rushed forward. "No!" he said forcefully. "No, it wasn't like that at all. Look, I know I have a lot to explain, but we have to go. We have to be in Germany by Tuesday."

She looked at him as if he was crazy. "What makes you think I will go anywhere with you? You're lucky I haven't put a bullet in your brain."

Michael looked to the floor, contemplating how he would accomplish this delicate operation.

"Ah wait, I guess this is Plan B," Fiona sniped. Michael looked at her in confusion. "This is what you had as a back-up in case I didn't fall for your lying charms. I may be a _cheap Irish whore_, Michael, but I'm not a stupid one."

"Stop saying that," he demanded, his voice rising with frustration. "That is _not_ what you are!"

Fiona shrugged and said softly, "I have been called much the same by people far better than you. So, if I am to guess, you have some evidence of my _charity work_ for the Cause, helping myself to some of our local banks many assets. Well, go ahead, use it, but you are forgetting, this is my country and I know enough nooks and crannies to hide for years. You'll be wastin' your time."

"No, Fiona, my colleagues have something else," he said, his voice faltering apologetically. "The CIA currently has the location of your father and brothers, a fishing cabin up north, right? If necessary, they have said they would share this information with MI6."

Now it was Fiona who paled, as her breath caught in her throat. She could not believe this was happening. He was willing to do whatever he needed to use her and she knew she was trapped.

"Ok…" She swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. "Ok, you win. I will go with you, just leave my family alone."

"We have to be at the ferry by 1900 hours, so we do have some time. Maybe we can talk?" he said hopefully.

"No," she stammered. "I have some calls to make. My father is expecting me. I will meet you at the ferry at half past the hour."

Once again his voice full of regret, Michael said, "I have to stay with you, Fiona, no unauthorized calls."

Her eyes flashed angrily, a welcome change from the grey lifeless look she had when she had first learned of his duplicity.

"My father will worry, I have to call him," she insisted. Fiona pulled out her silver mobile.

"On speaker then," he said, the authoritative operative colliding with her contrite lover

With her jaw set, she pressed the number one and speaker button at the same time. On the first ring, the strong Irish lilt of Callum Glennanne answered.

"Fiona, me angel, are ya on yar way?"

"No, Da, there has been a change in plans. I have some business to attend to in Europe, so I won't be meetin' ya just yet," she answered softly

"Ah, does this have to do with that man the boys say yer smitten with?" Callum said with a chuckle. "I am going to have to meet this man to see what his intentions are with my angel."

"No, Da, there is no man, not anymore. T'was nothing but a fling," she declared her eyes boring into Michael's. "Look I don't know how long I will be or if I can be in touch, but we will take that trip soon, Da. I know the fish are probably jumpin' right into the boat, just like when we went to Lough Clea when I was wee."

Callum took a deep breath, which could be heard through the phone. The code Fiona used was one only their family and friends knew. She was in trouble, but there was no way out. He and the boys were to lay low and be careful.

"Yer ok, Fiona?" he asked tentatively.

"I'm fine, Da. I will see ya soon."

"Will ya visit the girls before ya go, to give them my love. Maybe stop by Mr. O'Keefes shop for something to bring a smile to them?"

Fiona nodded, unshed tears welling in her eyes. "I will, Da."

"Slán abhaile, me brave little angel," Callum said softly and ended the call.

And somewhere in that northern cabin, Callum Glennanne turned to Fiona's brothers. "Yar sister will not be coming after all," he said gravely. "Liam, you need to tell me all what you know about this Michael McBride."

Fiona put down her phone and faced the man who had so carelessly broken her heart. "I have some stops to make before we go."

"I'll go with you," he said. When she looked at him disdainfully, Michael added, "I _am_ sorry, Fi, but I have my orders."

"Did they order you to shag me too?" she demanded furiously

"No, they didn't," he said softly. "They didn't know. I told you that that part was real."

"So, that was just for _your_ benefit," she replied bitterly. "Your own personal asset with benefits."

And with bag in hand, she turned on her heel and left the room.

Michael breathed a deep sigh and looked around the room that held so many memories. He wished not for the first time that he could be Michael McBride again, that he could be the man that she wanted him to be.

And for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt bitter remorse.

**A/N: Médecins Sans Frontières is Doctors Without Borders, in Canada we use the French and English version, Europe uses the French version.**

**Slán abhaile: an Irish goodbye greeting which literally translates to safe home**


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N Hello all. Thank you for all of the wonderfully insightful comments and reviews. We somehow wish we could all get together for a round table discussion of our favourite show, which is ironically how this all began. We had endless discussions in our summer group and this part of the story came when discussing the stages of grief. Thank you Mrs. D! This chapter is dedicated to our moms who are awesome. Have your hankies handy, this one is a weeper._

_K and T (we still don't own these characters)_

_Michael breathed a deep sigh and looked around the room that held so many memories. He wished not for the first time that he could be Michael McBride again, that he could be the man that she wanted him to be._

_And for the first time in his life, Michael Westen felt bitter remorse_.

Chapter 7

Michael sighed heavily, knowing full well that this _mission_, one of regaining Fiona's trust, would be difficult at best. He jogged up the walk to catch up to her, as she marched quickly to her destination.

The first stop Fiona made was at a floral shop around the corner. Michael went with her inside as she picked up two bouquets of pink roses. The shop keeper behind the counter gave Fiona a big smile, while eyeing Michael suspiciously. "Going to see the girls, Fi?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. O'Keefe, Da is up North and wants to send his love," Fiona replied softly. "He and the boys are fishin' but they aren't having much luck. Mind you, it's not like they were at _Lough Clea_." Mr. O'Keefe stiffened and slowly reached under the counter. As when Fiona had been speaking to Callum, Michael was very aware that she had spoken in code and had his own hand on the gun in his pocket in case Mr. O'Keefe had any thoughts of intervening on her behalf. The spy was relieved to see Fiona shake her head silently and put the money on the counter. She flung the bouquets into Michael's hands and walked out of the shop.

She picked out a late-model sedan and quickly and efficiently jimmied the lock and hotwired the ignition. Before Michael could even close the passenger door, she sped off, almost causing him to fall out.

"Jesus, Fiona, slow down! "he admonished.

She ignored him and steered the car towards her next stop, a place that she had already brought Michael to once before.

"Fiona," he began cautiously. "I…

"If you say one more word to me, I swear to God, I will steer this car into oncoming traffic, "Fiona declared without a hint of irony and, as if to prove her point, she sped up and swerved erratically along the road, causing cars to careen out of her way.

"Ok, ok! I will stop, for now. But we are going to have to talk eventually," Michael informed her.

They drove in silence for many kilometers until they came to the familiar cemetery. "You will stay here," she said flatly. "Non-negotiable."

She left the car with one of the bouquets and approached her little sister's grave. In the car, Michael turned on the transmitter he had hidden in his pocket and the clear lilting voice came through on the bug he had planted in Fiona's pocket.

"These are for you, Claire. Da sends his love," she whispered sadly. "I don't know when or if I can visit again, but I still think about you every day. I am off on a mission to God knows where. I tried it your way, Claire. I opened my heart to someone just like you would have and guess what? He ripped it out and tore it up. Just another user and he threatened our family to boot. So it's back to my way, baby sister: love nothing and nothing will hurt you. It is what will keep me safe for now." She laid the roses down, kissed the head stone and made her way back to the car.

Michael quickly put the transmitter back in his pocket and, to his credit; the guilt of his actions was clearly on his face. Before she got back in, she slipped her hand in her pocket and pulled out the bug.

"Did you get all you needed?" she demanded defiantly. Then placing the bug on the ground, she stomped it to pieces with the heel of her boot. "As I said before Michael, I may be a _cheap Irish whore_ but I am **NOT** a stupid one."

"Fi, please, please, don't think what we shared was…" his pleading ended when she put up her hand and walked towards the driver's door.

She got into the vehicle and, without another word, sped off to her final stop. After a short while, the car pulled into a winding driveway. Michael looked around for a clue as to where they were. It appeared to be some sort of hospital or institution. Fiona got out of the car and Michael quickly joined her.

"I have to come, Fi. Non-negotiable," he advised.

"I find it ironic that it is me who is to not be trusted," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Come if you must, but don't say a damn word." And then they made their way inside. Fiona approached the reception area where a friendly nurse waved at her.

"Hello, Fiona," the woman greeted her warmly. "She's in the recreation room, not really sure what today will hold," she added sadly.

Fiona nodded and headed down the hall, ignoring Michael's silent questions. They entered a large room and there by the big picture window looking over the drive was a smaller, older version of Fiona herself. She was knitting what looked like a large scarf, chatting with a woman dressed in a nursing uniform. She looked up as Fiona approached and a smile broke out on her face, her blue green eyes sparkling.

"Kathleen, you are here!" the older woman said. "Look, Sarah, Kathleen is here. Is Claire with you?" she asked hopefully.

Michael could see Fiona crumble before him as he looked on in confusion. "No, mam, she isn't. She is so busy with her studies. But since I was in the neighborhood I thought I would drive by and drop these off," Fiona said softly. The nurse beside the elderly lady looked at Fiona sympathetically.

"Oh, pink roses, they are me and Claire's favourite," the woman cooed. "Who have ya brought with ya, Kathleen? Who is this handsome gent?"

"This is my friend, Michael McBride," Fiona answered shortly. The woman stuck out her hand which Michael quickly grasped.

"I am Margaret Glennanne, so lovely to meet you. Any friend of Kathleen's is a friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Glennanne," Michael said in his Irish lilt.

"Oh, please call me Margaret or mam, as all of Claire's friends do. Do you know Claire as well?" she asked.

Michael shook his head. "No, mam, I have not had the pleasure."

"Oh too bad, she is the sun and moon and stars in our life. You will see when you meet. "

The next few minutes were spent with Margaret Glennanne showing off her knitting wares and making small talk about the weather and all news of all of her conversations with Claire. Fiona grew more and more uncomfortable as it went, almost visibly wilting before him. Michael looked down at watch noticing the time.

"Fi, we should think about getting going. We have quite a drive," and he realized his mistake immediately.

"Fi, why is he calling you Fi? What is going on, why would he bring HER up?" Mrs. Glennanne asked agitatedly.

"Now, now, mam, let me explain. Michael lost his sister Kathleen and it is painful for him to call me by that name, so he called me Fi, short for my middle name Finna, remember?" said Fiona hurriedly, casting an angry look at Michael.

"Oh, ok, I'm sorry, Mr. McBride. The name Fi conjures up some painful memories for me. My eldest girl, Claire's sister's name was Fiona. But those who loved her called her Fi. She died a few years ago," Mrs. Glennanne said wistfully.

"I am sorry," Michael said as he looked at Fiona, the pain clearly etched on her face. "Sorry for your loss."

"T'was meant to be, "Margaret declared. "Fiona led a dark and dangerous life."

"Sounds like someone I would like to meet, " Michael said desperately trying to break the tension in the room.

"No, I am afraid you wouldn't. Like my Claire, Fiona was beautiful, but her heart was dark," Margaret said sadly. "Oh, she loved a few like her family, she did, but she wouldn't let many into her heart. It was closed and dark. She trusted few and led a life that was not pure." Margaret's voice broke as she continued. "She broke laws, ran with undesirable people, _damned the consequences_ and she bedded men she was not committed to or would ever love. I told her once she was nuttin' but a _cheap Irish whore_ and she would burn in hell for what she did," Margaret finished harshly.

Michael was horrified. He wanted to stop this, wanted to take Fiona away from the rantings of her mother, wanted to take the pain away. But he knew he couldn't. Fiona was still, stoic in her grief, her jaw clenched and her eyes to the floor.

Mrs. Glennanne stopped her outburst. "But I didn't mean it, "she said so softly that they barely heard her.

Fiona interjected. "I am sorry, mam, but we really do have to run along. We are travelling and have to make the ferry."

"Ok, Kathleen, sorry for the harshness… You know that Fiona is a tender subject for me. Now Mr. McBride, you take care of this girl. She is very special to us, especially Claire." Mrs. Glennanne said, the darkness leaving her features.

"I will, mam," Michael agreed quietly.

"I miss her, you know," Margaret Glennanne spoke again.

"I know," Fiona said. "Maybe Claire will come by next week."

"No, my Fi," she whispered. "I miss my Fiona."

"She misses you too," her daughter said gently.

Fiona kissed her mother's forehead and headed out the door, Michael following behind her.

Once outside the door, Fiona stood, taking great gulps of breath, trying desperately to calm her shattered nerves.

Michael looked at her and quietly put his arms on hers, hoping she would accept his comfort.

"It's not always like this, "she said at last. "One day when I visited she knew that Claire was dead and that I was her surviving daughter, Fiona, and we cried and apologized and forgave and I had hoped that things were going to be ok."

She heaved a huge sigh before continuing. "But the next time I went to visit, once again she knew that Claire was dead and I was Fiona, her dark and evil daughter that was responsible for the death of her beloved Claire. I still have the scar on my forehead from where the water goblet shattered when she threw it at me. She's no longer allowed to have any glassware, only plastic. Just one more thing taken away from her because of me…"

"Mostly, it is like today. I am the casual acquaintance of her youngest daughter, who is alive and well but too busy to visit. Fiona is dead, a distant memory, and I allow her this comfort. It's the least I can do," Fiona said so sadly that it made Michael hurt.

Michael was unconsciously rubbing his hands over her arms, desperately trying to ease her pain. "I am very sorry Fiona," he finally said.

She stopped suddenly, removing his arms from her own. "You should really revisit you spy manual, Michael," she stated flatly. "I'm sure you will find in it that operatives _use_ assets; they most certainly do NOT feel sorry for them." The bitterness once again was seeping into her voice. "You will never speak of this to me, Michael, and if you ever use my family again to manipulate me into doing your bidding, I will put a bullet in your brain, _damn the consequences_," Fiona concluded, her tone cold and matter of fact.

And with a last mournful look towards the window, she turned and walked away.

_Spies are not the only ones who live in a make-believe world. Civilians do as well, whether it is a world of their making to mask the grief and anguish of long ago events or a mother making believe that their family was perfect and happy and Christmases were merry in the Miami sun._

Michael looked back at the window and saw Margaret Glennanne with her hand on the glass, looking with tearful recognition at the retreating figure of her surviving daughter, and for the first time in his life, Michael Westen missed his mother.


End file.
